


we're the kids your mama warned you about

by a_miiraculer, clairelutra (exosolarmoon)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Breast Fucking, Drunk Sex, F/M, Light Bondage, One Shot Collection, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, because i had a craving for wholesome tiddyfuck and ao3 wasn't providing :T, highly self indulgent, so here we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_miiraculer/pseuds/a_miiraculer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)(A collection of PWP oneshots, mostly focusing on Ladynoir/the love square, as I try to teach myself how to sin.)currently hiatus'd





	1. Kinky Sex(?)

**Author's Note:**

> so i want the k helped me learn kisses and i'm hoping that this collection of fuckening will help me learn smut because goddamn do i need to learn
> 
> enjoy my learning attempts /o/
> 
> (the promptset is [here](http://clairelutra.tumblr.com/post/165431277745/send-me-i-want-the-d-and-ill-generate-a-number) btw, if anyone wants to send requests or do the list themselves)  
> (ngl the best part of this meme is having a bunch of randos confess their sexual frustration in your inbox)
> 
> unbeta'd and etcetcetc

They didn’t really _plan_ this, but maybe Ladybug was paying attention when she accidentally tied Chat up and he stopped breathing.

And maybe she was paying attention when she physically re-positioned him mid-fight and he spent the rest of the fight distracted; maybe she was paying attention when she said _on your knees_ to get him to duck and he dropped like they’d just given out; and really, she could have been paying attention to a lot of things, but she supposed it didn’t really matter what she’d caught and what she hadn’t ( _all of it—she’d caught all of it_ ), because it all led back to this.

‘This’ being Chat panting at the open, dusk-darkening sky, his face lust-slack and his eyes unfocused, the line of her yo-yo constricting his wrists as she rutted against the bulge below his belt.

She was already pleasantly wound up from the spar (if the Ladyblog caught more of those easy smirks and less of his epic fails, she was pretty sure he’d have fangirls for _weeks_ , instead of just days), and if their suits were in any mood to accommodate them…

“Can I?” she asked, fiddling with his bell-pull, and got an unsteady nod.

Drawing it down three centimeters made his hips twitch, six made him jerk at his restraints, and at nine, he let out a rough, low groan that made her core clench.

“Everything okay?” Because as hot as that little noise was…

“You’re a _monster_ ,” he croaked. sounding like he wanted to laugh but was too worked over for it. “Evil, evil—” She unzipped him the rest of the way, revealing a thin strip of skin that ran from his throat to his pelvis. “— _oh god_ …”

Pectorals, ribcage, stomach, abs—all fluttering with his panting breath and pounding heart, all mouth-wateringly lean and toned, all excitement-flushed and hot to the touch of her lips.

“I can stop if you want me to,” she offered as she dropped a kiss to his sternum.

The noise he let out then was downright _pained_. “Please, please, _please_ don’t sto— _mmngh_ …”

It was hard to tell if the noise was because she’d just pressed his (covered) tip against her (covered) entrance, or if it was because she’d found one of his nipples with her exploratory kisses, or if it was because he’d jerked so hard at both that he’d remembered he was tied up, so she ran her tongue over the spot again, just to test it.

He just exhaled sharply, so it wasn’t that, but rocking down on his bulge got a noise that was almost a mewl—and reminded her just how _empty_ she was—so maybe that was it.

Speaking of… “Hey, Chat?”

“Mm?”

She ran her hand down his body until the ridge of his cock filled her hand and she was all lit up in hot, tingling, _aching_ anticipation from bellybutton to knee. “Can I…”

She trailed off, because finding an elegant way to say ‘can I put this in me?’ turned out to be… more _difficult_ than expected.

Not that it seemed to matter, because Chat’s response was a choked, strangled, “Anything, _anything_ you want—” as his face flushed darker and darker.

There was more to that statement, but Chat swallowed it down, and Ladybug supposed that as long it wasn’t ‘except fucking,’ it didn’t really matter.

It was almost nothing at all to loosen his belt, or to nudge him up closer to the bars she’d tied his wrists to. She eased his suit over his shoulders and used the new slack to free his dick, giving it a friendly stroke as she relished in Chat’s shuddering sigh.

“Still okay?” she checked, and Chat jerked a nod under the cage of his forearms, even more scarlet than before.

She then had to take a moment to admire said dick, because it really was a very nice dick. Not that she had a whole lot of experience, but that was irrelevant to the craving that was blossoming out from the pit of her belly, the breathless whisper of _yes-want-now_ that was settling hot in her bones, the fact that it was _Chat_ agreeing to let her see him this open, this _vulnerable_ …

It bobbed under her scrutiny, and she bit her lip to stifle a little mewl of her own, fire lapping at her veins.

“L-Ladybug?” he whispered, looking just as raw as the situation warranted, and Ladybug dropped an impulsive, reassuring kiss to the stiff member in her hand as she raised herself to a crouch.

He gasped and arched at the touch, the two stark black halves of his suit parting further and letting her feast her eyes on more pale golden skin, the lines of his abs going subtle-sharp-subtle as he moved, and _oh, yes, **that**._

“You said ‘anything,’ right?” she asked, breathless, as she hooked a fingertip into the lower half of her suit. She shuddered herself as her glove brushed her own hypersensitive skin, and watched Chat’s face for any sign of discomfort.

Another nod was all the go-ahead she really needed.

She had to retreat into the back of her head for a second to argue Tikki into letting her take the pants _off_ , but it was 100% worth it, because the _look_ on Chat’s face when he realized she was undressing herself was something she was planning to treasure for a _long_ time.

As comfortable as she was in her skin, she still got shy about her thighs sometimes—and the way Chat gulped and stopped breathing as he tracked the roll of her suit was doing _wonders_ for her ego.

Her suit was bunched around her ankles before she could straddle him easily, the rough gravel of the rooftop scraping her knees and the late evening air icy on the slick-coated space between her legs as she took him in hand. She could feel his pulse throbbing through it, the rhythm slightly offset from the way she could see it thudding through his chest. _Th-thump-ump, th-thump-ump, th-thump-ump, th-thump-ump_ …

She touched the head of his cock to her slit, the jolt of it making her belly quiver and shooting electricity up through her spine to tingle through her scalp, and Chat arched clear off the roof, red-bitten mouth dropping open in a silent gasp.

“Still good?” she tried to tease, but she was so gutted that it came out as a needy little plea instead.

Chat pulled hard at his restraints just once, muscles in his jaw jumping and tendons in his neck standing in clear relief, and then went ragdoll-limp and stared up at her so _helplessly_ she _had_ to reach for him, cupping his cheek and running her thumb over his mask.

He nuzzled her palm, biting his lip and then letting it go with a shaky exhale as his tip pushed into her, lighting her up from the inside out with a sparking, lit-fuse kind of awareness.

Taking him fully was both easier and harder than Ladybug expected—he was about the same objective size as her favorite toys, but her own slick only went so far, and it took a couple of burning-warm passes before she had him sheathed, Chat exhaling a ghost of a moan for each.

Actually _having_ him inside her, on the other hand…

He felt so _good_ , so much better than she’d expected anything like this to feel—hot and firm and thick, with his pulse hammering against the nerves of her entrance, and humans might not have vibrator switches, but she hadn’t even _moved yet_ and she was a convert.

It was Chat’s hips trembling between her thighs, _Chat_ whose lips were forming wordless prayers, Chat who was looking up at her with stars in his eyes, who only breathed when she reminded him with a hand down his chest, and who used that first breath to whisper, “Holy _shit_ , Ladybug.”

Ladybug laughed. She couldn’t _not_.

She did swallow it back to giggles when Chat hitched a broken noise instead of laughing with her, but he didn’t appear hurt, just gave her a stunned little smile.

“I felt that,” was his explanation—one that cut off into an almost-shout when she clenched around him with more purpose. “H-holy _shit_.”

She reached up to tap his jaw, skin fizzling at the new, thrilling feeling of having someone actually inside her—at having _Chat_ inside her. “Still okay?”

He lowered his chin to look at her and tugged at his restraints again, almost pouting. “I can’t touch you.”

“I think that’s the point of being tied up,” she pointed out, amused.

Frowning up at the yo-yo she’d left dangling between his wrist cuffs, he muttered, “That’s dumb.”

“That’s not what you were saying earlier,” she said, rolling her hips in a slow circle and conveniently forgetting that he hadn’t been saying much of anything at all earlier. She couldn’t feel much of him from the inside—vaginas weren’t really built like that—but the heat and pressure felt thick and heavy on the back of her tongue, and it was making her want to purr.

The muscles in his arms bulged, the strain showing as she repeated the motion just for the pleasure of it.

“L _ady_ bug…”

“Yeah?”

He blinked dazed eyes at her, every muscle going lax when she stopped moving. “You’re _a-amazing_.”

She intended to toss her head, say something cocky, say _anything_ , really, but with the way he was smiling at her…

She giggled and flustered, her cheeks heating further and her fingers curling where they were resting on his stomach.

Pleasure contorted his features at the noise, his hips giving a little roll of their own as he added, hoarse, “But _please_ …”

“Move?” she suggested, warm warm _warm_ even as dusk fell around them.

(Arousal and adoration made for one _hell_ of a cocktail, she had to say.)

“Ye-e- _es oh god—_ ”

So she did.

It took a bit of rocking to find her sweet spot, but the slick slide of his skin between the lips of her sex felt so _good_ that it might’ve done the job on its own, had she given it enough time.

Chat was mouthing a steady stream of swears at the sky by the time she found it, a litany of _fuck_ and _please_ and _Ladybug_ and _oh god_ , flushed right down his chest. She thought he might be closer than she was, but that was how these things went, wasn’t it?

She kind of wanted to tip his head down to make him look at her, see how badly she was wrecking him for herself, but in the end, dropped her hand to her clit instead, inhaling sharply at the texture of her glove.

From there, she was wound up enough that she had maybe a minute or two of tracing it while bearing down on Chat, and then her fingers slipped and pushed down a little too hard, and her orgasm crashed down on her like a bolt of lightning.

She crumpled, her entire body glowing and sparking and _burning_ in the spasms of her release, gripping the thick, hard shaft occupying her core with everything she had in her, Chat’s chest warm against her forehead.

When the brunt of the ecstasy let her go, leaving her floating and purring and shivering with the aftershocks, she picked herself up, lifting her head and realizing dimly that he was still stiff inside her.

He met her eye, an almost unbearable look of awe on his face for as long as it took her to flash him a loopy, smitten smile and flutter in another wave of aftershocks, and then his eyes were snapping shut, his hips were slamming into hers, his cock burying deep one, twice, three times—

It might have been a little rough, but Ladybug was so doped up she didn’t care—it was Chat, and all that sensation just felt _good_. He managed to wring the last of the flutters out of her, and then he was _done_ , a grunt forcing its way out of his throat as he came inside her.

A state of affairs she didn’t realize would be a problem until they’d both come down from their respective highs, until after she’d leaned up and brushed a kiss over his nose and untied him while he returned the favor tenfold.

And it wasn’t really a _big_ problem either, except…

She let him slip out of her, the warm fluids leaking down her thighs cooling fast in the night air. She wrinkled her nose as the mixture of jizz and slick dripped on Chat's stomach, and he shot her a questioning look.

“…We didn’t bring anything to clean up with.”

Chat dropped his forehead against her chest and _laughed_.


	2. Drunken Hookup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> release me from this hell

While it shouldn’t have been surprising that Master Fu would find a type of alcoholic beverage that worked on Miraculous holders at _some_ point during his hundred-odd years spent as one, discovering the effects of the bottles he’d left in his kitchen was still leaving Chat… _unbalanced_.

Both literally and metaphorically.

He didn’t have a whole lot of experience with alcohol, so he couldn’t say for sure whether the gentle euphoria hazing his vision was a common thing or not, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Man… what did they put _in_ this stuff?” Ladybug wondered, squinting at the bottle’s label as she sprawled out on the rush mats next to him. It wouldn’t do her much good, seeing as the ‘label’ amounted to Master Fu’s hasty scrawl of ‘WINE’ across a parchment wrap, but she was biting her lip like _that_ , and Chat couldn’t find the breath to tease her for looking.

The problem with drinking with Ladybug were threefold, he was starting to find:

One, when everything was already soft and hazy around him, her sly, crooked smiles only magnified the effect.

Two, because everything was already so dreamy, that dreaminess reflected back on her—from her kittenish pouts to the way she arched when she stretched to the way her giggles echoed between his ears.

Three, if keeping his eyes off her was hard when he was sober, it was nigh impossible when he wasn’t.

At this point, he could only hope that his love-drunk smile could pass off as just-plain-drunk, because it really wasn’t going anywhere.

After a good thirty seconds or so of searching the browned paper for any trace of an ingredients list, Ladybug set it down with an unsteady thump and the verdict of, “Ecstasy, that must be it.”

“I think that’s a feeling, not an ingredient,” Chat murmured once her voice had stopped stroking silk-cotton-velvet over his nerves. Though he was starting to suspect that whatever they’d ingested was closer to magic moonshine than whatever their absent master had labeled it as, so maybe they were both right.

Ladybug rolled out of her slouch, approaching him on all fours, only to pause and wrinkle her nose at him in confusion. “No? It’s a… a… hmmm…”

“It’s… what?” he prompted when it looked like she’d forgotten what ecstasy was, exactly. Her shoulder moved under his hand, which was the moment he realized his hand was on her shoulder. 

_Huh. How’d that get there?_

She blinked at him once, twice, then blurted, “Drug.”

“…What?”

“Party drug,” she said, like that would clarify _anything_ as she crawled over to him and then, well, on _top_ of him. He reclined back onto his elbows to accommodate her as she added, “It makes people happy. And cuddly.”

“Oh,” Chat said around her head, and spat a lock of her ponytail out of his mouth. Then, “No, _you’re_ a party drug.”

It certainly _felt_ like he’d been hit with something hard when she collapsed on top of him, though maybe whatever he got a hit of was less _ecstasy_ and more _anticipation_ or _arousal_.

Or, you know, just Ladybug.

Ladybug with her glassy blue-eyed smile and Ladybug with her lean and solid and tantalizingly _supple_ curves clothed in patriot-red and midnight-black. Ladybug who smelled like sweat and alcohol and perfume and _herself_ , and who might taste the same if he tilted her chin up and kissed her. 

Ladybug who buried her nose in his neck and let out a sweet trilling noise before telling him, “You smell go-od.”

Chat snorted. “I haven’t showered in two days.”

(That was about how long they’d been house-sitting for Master Fu, and he still couldn’t figure out how to work the ancient bathing facilities.)

“Hm,” she said, and then inhaled again. “You stink good, then.”

“Gross,” he informed her, even if his insides were all fizzing in delight over the compliment and nothing much at all felt ‘gross’ right now. 

Maybe that was the ecstasy bit.

She trilled again, and then trailed off into a satisfied purr when he wrapped an arm around her. 

She wasn’t alone in the satisfaction—Ladybug was one of the most _gratifying_ people to hug he’d ever known, even putting long-held-torches aside.

It wasn’t quite that she was the _nicest_ person to hug (that was too weak a word, and that honor went to Director Schwartz anyway, who was plump and middle-aged and had mastered the art of the Mom Hug™ like no one else), but it was like… jiggle physics applied to rubber… or something. The opposite of delicate. Substantial?

To say it shortly, she was _built_.

They both were, after so many years in the hero business, but Ladybug’s version of ‘built’ was soft padding over firm muscle no matter where he touched her, and it was…

There wasn’t an adjective perfect for the twinge low in his belly and the flash of heat it brought on every time he did, but _hot as fuck_ was probably close enough.

Which was even putting aside her… more typical assets— _there_ she was just _graced_ , no two ways about it.

That… _probably_ wasn’t the best train of thought to pursue when the object of his affection was one wriggle away from discovering what she did to him, but the realization was hazy behind the way her scent filled his nose and she was sleepy and cuddly and touching him _all over_ and really…

And then, well, she did wriggle.

The pressure of her thigh against his groin nearly made him jump out of his skin, his alcohol-dulled senses coming into sharp focus as the touch hit him like a bolt of _lightning_.

Her reaction was kind of anticlimactic by comparison. 

She frowned up at him in mild confusion, wriggled again ( _oh god oh g o d_ ), and then smirked wryly and mumbled, “’Nd what’re _you_ thinking ‘bout?”

“Boobs,” Chat said, straight-faced. It was the first thing that came to mind that wasn’t some variation of _you_.

“Oh,” said Ladybug. She cocked her head, blinking languidly. “I have those.”

“I noticed,” he mumbled back, strain showing in his voice despite his best efforts. At this new angle she’d pushed herself up to, it was nigh impossible to ignore the way they moved against his chest with every breath.

She sat up, removing those and leaving his chest cold as she settled herself more comfortably in his lap. She looked down to studied her cleavage with a thoughtful moue.

Not that he could really blame her—he spent a large portion of his transformed hours trying not to do the same.

Then, without warning, she reached up and cupped her breasts, flesh dimpling under her fingers as she squeezed them and then pushed them up and together, batting her eyelashes at him as her pout took a coy, teasing turn.

Chat barely saw the pout; he was too busy trying not to have a _stroke_.

Ladybug released her hostages with a bright giggle. “So you did notice!”

Chat, who was in the process of trying to recover from his not-stroke, found his progress knocked back a few hundred meters by the way said said hostages sprang free, jiggling just enough to remind him sharply of just how _soft_ they actually were.

“Uhh,” he rasp-wheezed, “yeeeah… _oh.”_

He cut off, swallowing his tongue back down as she traced the slopes of her breasts and then up the sides, just about spoon-feeding his imagination with all the ways she’d feel if those were _his_ hands on her, not her own.

Tentatively, she caught her lip between her teeth (oh) and started to massage them in earnest ( _oh god_ ), and Chat couldn’t do a _thing_ but sit there and _burn_.

Not staring while he was sober was easy enough—he’d almost, _almost_ perfected it by now. Not staring while he was drunk was slightly harder, mostly because it was harder to remember that he wasn’t supposed to. Not staring while Ladybug was, for all intents and purposes, putting on a show for _him?_

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fu—

He thought he could almost kind of see her nipples starting to stiffen under the attention—and his dizzy suspicions were confirmed when slim fingers stroked over them and plush, reddened lips parted in a gasp.

 _Fuck_.

She paused then, taking mercy on him, though it was far too late to save whatever dignity or powers of higher thought he might have had.

“Are you a horny drunk, or am I just that hot?” she wondered, looking _spectacularly_ unbothered by either possibility. Releasing her breasts again, she twitched her shoulders to make them bounce. 

Chat gurgled. 

(The answer to that question was _I don’t know_ , but fuck if he could manage _any_ words after something like that.)

She nodded. “I don’t know what you just said, but I’m gonna pretend it was number two.”

Chat’s insides _ached_ with ragged longing, his hard-on was starting to get… frankly _painful_ , and Ladybug was just as untouchably lovely as ever, but no combination of these factors could keep him from bursting into strangled laughter at her words.

Ladybug just huffed at him. _“C’mon,_ at least let me live with the lie.”

Chat sank back on his elbows, coughing around his chuckles as he stared at Master Fu’s bamboo ceiling, and didn’t bother to gather his words. _  
_

 _I love you_ probably wasn’t the most appropriate of replies, after all.

Ladybug tugged him back down from cloud nine with a tap to the hip, fingertip trailing up to where the material of his suit tented over his hard-on. “At least _this thing_ likes me.”

“It usually does,” Chat confessed in a rasp.

Ladybug pulled herself off his lap, and he had about two seconds to entertain the faint worry that he’d put her off somehow before she was turning back around and flopping back on top him—chest first, right on top of his dick.

“There,” she chirped over Chat’s harsh gasp. His head was spinning too hard to tell for certain, back arching under the rush, but he thought she might’ve followed it up with, “An aus—… ass—… _suspicious_ meeting.”

Chat blinked hard at the ceiling, stars vertigo-swirling in his vision, and then corrected, “Auspicious.”

Ladybug confirmed that she had _indeed_ said that by echoing, “Auspicious,” with a great deal more certainty.

Chat didn’t really see what was so _auspicious_ about it—unless her end goal was to make him cream his pants, in which case she was right on track—but she looked so _pleased_ with herself that all he could do was let out an agreeable grumble and surrender to whatever it was she wanted to do with him.

Seeing as her next act was to rub those delectably soft treasures over his boner, a sly little smile making her eyes glitter, it might really _have_ been that her aim was to get him off like this—Chat was too busy trying to keep his moan down to an acceptable volume to figure that out.

“Feels good, right?” she said, bafflingly smug.

Trying and failing to blink the stars away, he managed a nod, and then moaned louder when that got her preening, rubbing against him in slower, sweeter motions.

“But… hm.” She frowned down at where his bulge was pressed against the valley between her breasts, dissatisfied.

He tried to follow her gaze, but had to look away once he met with the red-black-red seam where their suits met. “Wh-… -at?”

Her face cleared, and, with a little _aha!_ noise, she raised herself high enough to grasp the zipper pull at her throat. With only an easy tug and a faint _zrrrpt_ , Ladybug revealed a strip of creamy skin that ran from her clavicle down her sternum. 

He sort of had an idea of what that meant, but it still felt like getting hit with a _defibrillator_ when she snuggled back down, pale pink swells of flesh on either side of his dick, which was throbbing harder and harder under the attention. 

Catching his wide-eyed stare, Ladybug wrinkled her nose at him. “Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“N-no?” he stammered, and then choked on a groan as she squirmed, reaching up to catch his bell in two fingers. “Wh-wha-ha—?”

“Friends don’t give friends half-assed titty fucks,” Ladybug said as she unzipped him in kind, cool air hitting his flushed chest and making goosebumps prickle up his arms. 

“I-I don’t think friends give each other… _‘t-titty fucks’_ at all,” Chat croaked, head spinning—though the argument was token at best. It wasn’t like the thought had _never_ crossed his mind, but it usually never had more context than ‘ludicrous masturbation fantasy’ when he thought of it. 

…Granted, the past ten minutes or so were firmly in ‘ludicrous masturbation fantasy’ territory already, so…

“Only _really good_ friends. And teammates!” She paused when the zipper snagged just above his navel, frowning. “…I mean, don’t you want to?”

What kind of question was that?

 _Wanting to_ was such a constant in his life that he hadn’t given it any thought at all until she said that. He glanced down at her—guileless pout, open sides of her suit only protecting her modesty by _millimeters_ , what would it feel like to… to… _oh_ …—and gulped, nodding weakly.

Ladybug beamed like sunshine, and, like anyone with enough self-preservation would, Chat tore his eyes away, freeing his zipper with a clumsy jerk.

She took the bell from his fingers and unzipped him the rest of the way, dropping a kiss to his navel and pawing his suit off while he was distracted with the tingles dancing in his belly in the wake of that hot puff of air.

His suit was tangled around his wrists, his top half in open air and Ladybug’s clumsy fingers fumbling with his belt, and he was just thinking about how _adorable_ she looked with her tongue poked out like that when she freed his cock. 

He barely had the time to register the relief before she emitted a tiny _‘ha!’_ and flopped right back down again, hard sternum and soft breasts making the touch equal parts _ow_ and _oh god_.

.”Even _more_ ass… aws… _auspicious,_ ” Ladybug declared proudly, which, well…

She wasn’t wrong.

“Ow,” he gasped anyway, because, really, _ow_ —and then he glanced down, her cheeky grin hovering over where she’d captured his dick between two heartattack-soft orbs, and swallowed down a moan of, _“Oh god.”_

He was in no way prepared for her to reach up, hands on the black sides of her suit, and _squeeze_ him, and yet that was exactly what happened.

_“Fuck.”_

Ladybug giggled, skin rubbing against his in electric little twitches. “That’s the idea—oh!”

Chat’s hips jerked involuntarily, her hot breath on the head of his dick _lancing_ up and down his spine, and then gave another little thrust when it felt like his skin might try to crawl right off without it.

The fire in his system seemed to be eating up all the oxygen in the room, because there wasn’t any left to fill his lungs. His head was spinning, his muscles cramping from the effort of _not_ thrusting, and when he glanced down at Ladybug…

She was smiling at him.

Sweet and surprised and oddly… gentle? as she watched him, she caught his eye and mumbled, “You’re really pretty.”

“E-excuse me?” Chat sputtered, the heat in his body focusing into a hot blush.

“S’true!” she half-laughed, arching and relaxing to mimic a bounce when he froze. “Preeeeetty kitty…”

“Shut u-p,” he shot back eloquently as his spine did its royal best to melt into the floor. Praise from Ladybug was his one surefire weakness. Glancing down at her—messed up hair and silly, mischievous smile and the fingertips of her black-and-red gloves on her flushed skin as she, well, rode him—Chat swallowed and added, “You’re prettier.”

He cautiously thrust again, and then choked on his tongue when she ducked down to greet his cock with a kiss.

“Am not,” she protested, like she really thought she was going to win this argument when she was blushing like _that_. “Anyway,” she said, flipping her hair and looking smug, “if I was _really_ that pretty, you’d kiss me!”

…Was that a joke?

He pushed himself up to the heels of his hands, giving her a very unimpressed stare as he used the leverage to bend himself double.

He couldn’t really breathe what with his organs all squished up like this, but that point was moot when Ladybug looked up.

She blinked at him, mild surprise on her face, and then—

 _“Pfffffft.”_ She grinned, immensely amused. “‘Re you gonna kiss me just to prove a point?”

“…Maybe,” Chat rasped, flushing darker in exertion or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell. Of all the reasons he’d nearly kissed her, it wasn’t nearly the silliest.

Of course, this time it wasn’t ‘nearly.’ 

She tilted her head back, warm, wine-saturated breath brushing against his chin, and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was sloppy, fuzzy with the drinks in their respective systems, electric with every slip of lip, and absolutely swoon-worthy in its own breathless, drunken way.

Not quite where Chat had pictured his first kiss to take place, but…

Ladybug moaned, soft and deep, massaging him with the press of her flesh almost absently as they kissed, and Chat had to rip away as his head swam too hard to keep up his end of the kiss. 

The glow hit him twofold as he sat up—blood flowing through abused vessels once again and chill air flooding his airways, and the shy, sweet smile on Ladybug’s face when his vision cleared enough to look down again—and he reached down to cup her cheek.

His suit caught him halfway, and he switched his weight onto his right hand so he could free his left with an impatient jerk, Ladybug’s giggles dancing through his ears as he fumbled. He paused once he’d gotten his hand out of its glove, marveling at how the dry, cool air felt weaving thought his fingers before remembering that he’d wanted to _do_ something with that hand. 

Now with the range of motion that allowed it, Chat reached out his off hand and cupped her cheek. It was soft under the pad of his thumb, warm and plush and smiling.

“Guess I really am the prettier one now, huh?”

Chat smiled back, unbearably fond. “You’re lovely.”

Of all things, _that_ got her to blush, a little rise in heat he could feel when he was gloveless like this. “Ha! You’re just saying that because I’m getting you off.”

It was Chat’s turn to laugh, though it choked off into a low, wounded noise when she squeezed him again. “Thank you for your kind servi _-ces_ —”

She huffed, rubbing him up and down outside the padding of her breasts, and stars swam in his vision. 

“—but you’re _ah!_ -mazing an-n-nyway,” Chat somehow managed to finish, stuttering worse as she encouraged him to move and one of his stilted thrusts pulled her suit off one stiff pink nipple.

It was too much friction and not enough slide, but even so, he was pretty sure that the lingering alcohol haze was the only reason he’d lasted this long. He let go of her face to balance better, get more leverage, and his next thrust pushed the other side off as well.

Chat swallowed hard, taking in the sight before him—Ladybug’s bitten lip and laughing eyes, gloves silhouetting delicate fingers against her pale mounds—and followed up the thrust with a slow roll, trembling from the inside out.

This was _not_ how he imagined seeing Ladybug’s chest for the first time, not by a long-shot, and he’d imagined _that_ quite a bit too.

She greeted his next thrust with another kiss, and the next with a little lick that slammed him right up against the edge of his orgasm, spiking at the base of his spine. His hips jumped, stammering at the touch, and met with her open mouth.

She sucked softly, tongue swirling around the head when he froze there, and Chat registered hot, slick friction a split second before the pressure at the base of his spine _exploded_ , sending him right over the edge.

He opened his mouth to warn her, but all that came out was a low, wounded moan as pleasure took him in a chokehold. 

He was familiar enough with how orgasms felt, but having someone else pull it out of him? That was _indescribable_. Flying and falling, molten ice, like there were forces of nature inside him that danced to her tune, and her tune alone.

Bowing under it, his eyes slammed shut and his jaw clenched as it rode him, wrung him out and left him spent.

… _Woah_.

That was the only thing between his ears as he collapsed, the prickling of the tatami mat against his shoulder registering as though it came from very far away. The room spun, anchoring again when the ceiling came back into focus.

He blinked up at it a couple of times, and then directed his gaze a bit lower than that, looking down his body to Ladybug, who still had his softening dick between her breasts. 

There was a strange look on her face, her mouth was shut tight like she had something in it, but she swallowed when she met his eye, grimacing.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” she rasped, heady and deep. She lifted herself off of him, and as gravity took hold of her… assets, Chat realized there wasn’t a trace of his release on her.

Oh.

She’d swallowed it.

“S-sorry,” he said, his own mouth dry and numb, the lazy post-orgasm tingles in his limbs going glittersharp at the revelation. “It… I was… surprised too.”

She grinned, no harm done. “Told you, no half-assed titty fucks here.”

“...Half-boobed?” Chat offered, snickers bubbling in his throat as he lifted a heavy hand to brush her hair back behind her ear.

She rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss to his palm, still grinning, and didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she said, “Dare you to kiss me _now_.” 

Chat cocked his head, nonplussed.

“If you do, _then_ I’ll believe I’m the pretty one,” she elaborated smugly, sitting up and sticking out her tongue so he could see traces of his jizz on it. She obviously thought she had him beat.

He wasn’t sure how to tell her that she didn’t. The notion was about as gross as it was _unbearably hot_ , tasting himself in her mouth as she kissed him through his blissful haze.

So he didn’t tell her.

He sat up (slowly, achingly) and kissed her.

She squeaked in surprise, freezing for a moment, and then opened to him on a gentle hum.

She was bitter-salty-sweet, like alcohol and grapes and human musk, and it was good, _so_ good. If he’d been wrung out before, then she was filling him back up again—her scent, her voice, her easy affection all leaving him as sated as if he’d had a full meal.

“You’re _amazing_ ,” he breathed as he pulled back, the slick click of their lips shivering pleasantly down his spine.

Her mouth dropped open, a pretty blush dusting her cheeks and collarbones, and then shut on a little gulp. “Fine, you _win_.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head the other way, stomach flipping and thanking ever deity under the sun for peripheral vision when the change in angle allowed him to see her more fully—her slim, muscled bare shoulders, her lovely bare breasts, the arrow of bare, pale skin reveled by her open zipper. “Do I get a prize?”

Her lips quirked into a smirk, the expression combining with the blush to create something utterly _gutting_. “You do.”

He blinked. _Wasn’t expecting that._

“...Do tell.”

 _“You,”_   she said, raising a hand and poking his chest with a single finger, “get to return the favor.” 

Chat breathed a laugh, not even bothering to pretend this wasn’t shaking him to the core as he rested his forehead against hers. “Understood.”

Ladybug huffed. “Aren’t you _so_ glad you won?”

“Mhmm...” he agreed, taking her flippant tone and turning it on its head.

She flustered again, looking away, but didn’t dodge him when he placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth. 

She did, however, remove his curious fingers from her zipper pull.

“...Later.” She kissed the corner of his mouth in turn. “ _After_ we figure out how to shower.”

‘Later’ also meant ‘when they’d sobered up,’ Chat realized with a twinge of guilt.

He’d run it by her again then, but in the meantime, he stole one last kiss and drew away.

She was grinning when his eyes found her again. At his questioning look, she said, “Told you it was auspicious.”

He blew a lock of hair out of her face, and she laughed.

 _Auspicious_ indeed.


End file.
